


Kindest Regards.

by orphan_account



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Chocolate chip, since there was already fruit involved.""Whip cream?""No, we had forgotten it by the bed, neither of us wanting to walk across the house to grab it.""Honestly, I should've know. You two are sickening." There was a hint of smile on Booker's face that showed he didn't really mean it.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Kindest Regards.

It was one of those rare peaceful moments that happens a few times a month. Nicky in the kitchen cooking up dinner for everyone. It was only him, Joe and Booker held up in an old rundown motel room outside of what would now be called, New York. Andy was out gathering information for their newest target.

Joe and Booker sat at the table, Joe on one side, Booker opposite of him, feet resting on the unsteady wooden table. Joe was more focused on his husband, watching the Italian move around the kitchen adding spices to the meat when needed, stirring the sauce so it doesn't burn on the bottom. He loves watching Nicky like this. How his husband looks so domestic and soft. 

Jeans pooling around his ankles, worn threads catching on the hairs that rested on-top of his bare feet. He's wearing one of Joe's old painting shirts, the one that was just a tad to big for Joe himself and hung below his butt.

It also had a huge purple handprint on the lower part of fabric from when Joe found himself with a rather eager Nicky in his studio, the Italian man's hands everywhere he could reach. Which unfortunately meant he had ended up knocking over a can of paint, purple liquid spilling everywhere. Joe half expected Nicky to start apologizing but instead he pressed an open palm into the sticky liquid and landed a loud, hard slap to Joe's ass.

A loud hum broke Joe out of thought and he glanced across the table. Booker was frantically scribbling onto a semi alcohol stained peice of paper on his lap, the noise oddly soothing in Joe's ears as it remains him of the sound of his own artwork. He'd scribble something out, frown at the paper before huffing in anoyance and glancing up at Joe before turning towards the kitchen. He'd once again huff to himself and go back to typing. 

Eventually Joe found his behaviour quickly becoming rather bothersome. It was like everytime Nicky met his eyes, Booker would groan, stop his writing and stare at them in thought before going back to the paper. It was starting to distract him from watching his Nicoló and he wasn't going to stand for that.

"Booker, you normally aren't one for written words, are you writing?" 

Booker froze, eyes darting from the paper to Joe, to the to door showing out back, "I don't quite know, Andy calls it Fanfiction."

Joe raised his eyebrows, "Like Kirk and Spock?."

"In the sense it's two males, yes."

"Oh?" 

He hesitated, glancing over Joe's shoulder to make sure no one had come back in yet, before answering, "Alright fine, it's you and Nicky."

This time Joe was surprised, as he leaned back in his chair and looked towards to husband, "You're writing a story based on mine and Nicky's love? W-why?"

Seeing that Joe wasn't mad, Booker continued, a smirk appearing across his face, "Andy asked me too. Also I'm being paid."

"I see. May I ask what more it's about?" Joe looked back at the French man, a smile spread across his lips. He was fully prepared to help his friend in anyway he could.

"Of course, Andy wanted me to write about, and I quote, 'that time in malta' I'm not entirely sure what she meant by that, but I figured starting it off with Nicky cooking you breakfast in bed wouldn't be to far off." 

Joe hummed, "He made us pancakes and this beautiful plater of fruits."

Booker picked up the well worn pencil again, "Pancakes, got it. Blueberry or chocolate chip?"

"Chocolate chip, since there was already fruit involved."

"Whip cream?"

"No, we had forgotten it by the bed, neither of us wanting to walk across the house to grab it."

"Honestly, I should've know. You two are sickening." There was a hint of smile on Booker's face that showed he didn't really mean it.

"You know," Joe started, eyes twinkling in the candle light, "If you really wanted to start the story off right, the whip cream was what woke me up that morning..."


End file.
